


Beside You in the Dark

by anneapocalypse



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things haven't been easy for Wash and York since escaping Freelancer, but there are more good days than there used to be--and good nights.</p><p>Set in an AU where York and Wash were in a poly relationship with North in Freelancer, but in the end North chose to leave with South instead, leaving York to break Wash out of Recovery and get him to safety on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beside You in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Larissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larissa/gifts).



> Written for [Larissa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/larissa) who writes this AU with me, for RvB Happy Hour on tumblr.

York wakes in the dark to warmth at his side, an arm heavy over his ribs. He's been dreaming something, something that blurs away as he wakes but something nice that fades into the real sensation so seamlessly it takes him a moment to realize Wash has rolled up against him in bed until he feels warm breath on his neck.

He hums a sleepy sound and edges closer. It's been a few days since Wash had a nightmare, which is a small miracle. Seems okay right now. Sometimes he just comes close for comfort. Truth is, York wishes he'd do it more, but he knows better than to push it.

Kisses smear over his collarbone and York is suddenly a little more awake.

"Hey," he murmurs, pleasantly surprised, turning his face to nuzzle against Wash's forehead. His hair's fuzzy against York's nose. He needs a haircut. A soft suck in the pulse point of his neck sends a shiver all the way down York's spine, and even before the arm around his waist tugs him closer he's rolling onto his side.

Wash is little more than an outline in the dark but his mouth meets York's as he pulls him close, in a kiss so heavy and purposeful York's surprised again, though certainly not unhappy with the situation. He's trying to untangle his legs from the covers and get closer, feel the full heat and solidness of Wash's body against him, but Wash ignores the twist of sheets and just cups a hand around his ass to drags his hips in tight. York rolls his hips eagerly against Wash and feels the push of his cock and hel _lo_ , he’s already hard.

“ _Hey_ now,” he murmurs again, in that low saucy voice Wash always gives him a look for. “Somebody’s got a head start on me.”

Wash snorts, and bites a sharp kiss into the corner of his mouth. “You’ll catch up.”

“ _Will_ I, now,” York retorts, smirking because it’s dark and he can get away with it and because it's so good to feel Wash getting like this, all eager and grabby, silencing him with a hard kiss and a hand on the back of his neck in a firm, possessive grip. York tucks his inconvenient bottom arm against Wash’s chest, kissing him back with a fervor that’s hard to restrain.

Not that he should. Not right now, when Wash clearly wants this. It’s just that, well, getting back to _this_ in their relationship has been… a long time in coming.

Such a flood of relief wells up in his chest, thinking about the fact that they’re here, still together, after everything, and Wash is okay. Not great, not good every day, but starting to be okay for longer and longer stretches. Knowing who he is, even when he wakes up screaming. Knowing where he is, reaching for the real person next to him. Asking for help when he needs it, and even though York can see it pains him to do it, he could almost collapse from relief that Wash is able to ask, and is asking him.

Because god, he'd give him anything. Anything he needs. Anything to not see him hurt like that ever again.

Anything to see him _happy_.

It's a warm night and neither of them are wearing much to begin with but Wash's hands seem to want to touch as much of York's skin as possible, running over his chest and down to his hips, grabbing his ass to press him tighter and then sliding under the waistband of his boxers and oh York lets an eager sigh escape between kisses as Wash's hand dips lower. He's touching him too, but letting Wash keep the lead, content to kiss him and hold him and maybe rub a teasing thumb over his nipple until Wash moves for more.

He's got ideas, though.

York waits, because from the feel of things Wash isn’t going to be long about getting what he wants, and just when his hands move to push him onto his back, York pulls away from his mouth. Wash makes a questioning noise but York pushes back with a hand on his chest and shifts himself down before Wash can protest--not that he does. He figures out what York's up to quickly enough, and he’s not about to say no, York figures, not when he’s this hard.

He doesn't bother to deal with the blankets, just ducks under them and it's Wash who reaches down to toss them aside so York doesn't suffocate as he kisses his way down between Wash's hips. Wash still works out, says it helps, and he’s naturally pretty lean but he’s developed a little extra softness over the lines of muscle in his abs York traces with his tongue. His mouth meets waistband and York wonders for a couple seconds just how much coordination he’d need in the dark to pull off Wash’s underwear with his teeth but it’s dark and Wash likes those boxer-briefs that are snug and while they’re hot as fuck the way they hug his junk when he’s just walking around the apartment in them giving York surprise boners on a daily basis, they’re not the easiest things to get off with your mouth.

He’s got better uses for his mouth, anyway.

York presses his face right against Wash’s cock, nuzzling against his straining shaft through the soft knit fabric and letting the heat of his breath soak through it. Wash lets out a groan, and his hand curls around the back of York’s neck. “ _York_.”

York responds by mouthing his way to the tip of Wash’s cock, feeling the wetness in the material against his lips. Enough to make him want to taste.

He tugs the waistband down with both hands, and Wash reaches down to help, squirming out of his boxer-briefs impatiently and cupping York’s head to draw him back in.

Wash's always loved this. Gives as good as he gets, but York knows how much he loves to get, which is fine, because York likes giving. Been a while since he got to do this regularly and Wash’s dick is one of his all-time favorites even objectively. (North’s was up there but he’s not thinking about North.) He could enjoy having Wash’s dick in his face for hours, even in the dark like this where he can’t see how good he looks, thick and flushed and hard. York nuzzles for him again, feeling his way with little more than his mouth, and occupies himself for a minute or two laying wet kisses around the base. Moves slowly up his thick shaft, slow enough to make Wash hiss at him from above him. "Fucking _tease_."

A grin splits across York's face in the dark. God, it's good to hear that. He plants another kiss firmly on the underside of Wash’s cock, nose bumping against his frenulum. "Want me to stop?"

Fingers tangle in his hair. "Don't you dare."

Oh. That’s even better.

York takes the cue to get down to business and kisses his way up to Wash’s leaking head, lapping at him with long, slow strokes that have Wash’s hips arching already. Easy to forget it’s been a while for him too.

All the months of recovery, York got used to taking care of himself in private as much as possible. While Wash was sleeping, or in the shower instead of in bed. Couldn’t have Wash feeling bad or obligated or any of that.

Hesitation has never really been in York’s vocabulary but after that… he just didn’t know when it’d be okay again. Too afraid of pushing him. So he kept it to himself, laid off on the jokes and innuendo, even. Anything to keep Wash from feeling pressured. God, the last thing he’d ever want to do was hurt him.

Then when they finally had sex again, Wash was as hesitant as he was. Even his kisses were tentative, every touch a question mark, and York couldn’t figure it out. Had to ask.

“You sure you want this?”

Wash paused a long moment, staring at him searchingly. “I--yeah. Do you? I mean, do you still…”

And, well, shit. The last thing he’d meant by holding back was for Wash to think he didn’t still feel that way about him.

It got easier, as they both started to clue into the fact that yeah, they _wanted_ each other as much as they ever had. As much as they had when they were three, though York tries hard not to go there, can’t help that stab of anger he still feels when he thinks about that and all the questions he could never answer about why. Answers he doesn’t want, really. Sure, maybe he still wonders where North is, whether he and South made it out okay, but at the same time he doesn't want to know, or ever see them again. Doesn't want to see what was worth dumping him and Wash for.

As it turns out, they don’t need him. Maybe they never did. Maybe things would’ve been better if they’d never been three. Just him and Wash. And no, that’s probably not fair, it’s too easy to be angry at North, but North’s not here to be hurt, and god knows they’ve both hurt enough over him.

They don’t need him. They’ve got everything they need right here.

Everything York needs is the way Wash’s hands tighten in his hair, as his cock slides heavy and thick over his tongue. York keeps the pace slow at first, wanting to taste every inch of him, savor this, running his tongue all over him, keeping a steady rhythm with the slide of his lips. Wash groans openly, tugging at York’s hair every time he comes up for air. York bobs a little faster then slows again, just to tease, dragging long needy sucks all the way down and back up, going a little deeper each time.

Wash’s hips are bucking up and he gasps a curse as York lets him bump the back of his throat, lips spread wide around him, tongue working over his shaft. There’s nothing quite like the way Wash fills his mouth, the way he feels in his throat when York sucks in a breath through his nose and presses down further, tighter, swallowing him as deep as he can. His fingers dig hard into Wash’s hips as he holds and holds, and over the blood rushing in his ears he hears his a whimper of his own smothered around Wash’s cock and nothing matters except giving him everything he has.

His breath rushes ragged into his lungs when he finally draws back and instead of pulling Wash just strokes his hair, almost _petting_ him, choking out something between a plea and a demand, and York wraps his lips around his head and gives him messy wet sucks while he’s collecting himself again. He doesn’t know how much longer Wash is going to last and he’s not done giving yet.

With a hard suck he slides his mouth back down, taking Wash’s cock in his throat again. This time Wash pulls. That’s new, York thinks in the back of his head, well maybe not new, Wash’s always been grabby but this feels… different? Hard to put his finger on it. Hard to _think_ right now.

“ _York_ \--fuck--”

York groans, deliberately this time, letting Wash feel it in his throat, and the next thing he knows Wash is dragging him back and forth, thrusting up into his mouth with an urgency in his movements that says he’s close, real close. It’s so easy to let go and let Wash take what he wants, so _good_ to feel the confidence in his touch, and with every push of his hips York relaxes a little more and lets him a little deeper.

(This is different, even by recent standards, and York doesn’t quite know what to make of it but it’s good, so good he can’t second-guess it, not now.)

It’s not long, another couple thrusts, and Wash jerks him down hard and filling his throat with hot pulses and York’s swallowing, swallowing and sucking hard, not letting Wash’s cock out of his mouth until he’s licked him completely clean and Wash has gone boneless beneath him, fingers loose and trembling in his hair.

York rests his head on Wash’s hip to catch his breath, becoming aware of the glaze of sweat on their skin, the thump of his own heart, the throb in his cock. Wash taps his shoulder after a minute. “C’mere.”

He crawls up Wash’s torso and curls up against his side, not even worried about letting his obvious hard-on poke him in the hip. “Mmm. Good?”

Wash lets out a huff of laughter, rolls toward him and presses his mouth hard to York’s in answer, harder that York’s expecting and he’s pushed flat on his back almost before he realizes it. Wash’s kisses are full and devouring and steal every bit of York’s breath and most of his thought, beyond how much he wants more.

He’d thought they might just curl up and Wash would fall asleep and York could finish himself off, no problem, but Wash has already hooked his fingers into his boxers and is tugging them off him.

“Wash--”

Another kiss silences him, and Wash is warm and heavy on top of him and he grinds down against York’s cock and nips at his ear, making him shiver.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs. “For a change, okay?”

York can't say no. Not when Wash's fingers are already between his thighs, cupping his balls for a squeeze. He spreads his legs wider automatically. “Up for another round already?”

Wash laughs hot on his neck, smearing kisses across his throat. “I’ll catch up.”

He pulls back for a moment then, leaning off to one side and York hears the scrape of a drawer opening and the snap of a bottle top. He can feel Wash shifting between his legs before a warm hand cups his balls again and a cool slick finger slides along the cleft of his ass, working the lube over his skin before sliding into him.

Another finger follows, working him open with gentle, patient strokes. Wash knows damn well he can go faster but York lets him take his time because it feels so good, sinking into the bed and drawing his knees up to give Wash easier access. Wash rubs a thumb over his taint almost like it’s an afterthought, like he doesn’t know exactly how to make York suck in a breath and squirm.

Then he curls his fingers _just_ a little, just enough so York can feel the barest pressure against his prostate. Just enough that it’s nowhere near enough, and then it’s gone.

“Wash.”

He’s got a good memory.

Wash’s laugh is wicked. "Want me to stop?"

"Don't you dare," York says breathlessly.

Fingers curl again. Fuck. A little more this time. Just a little.

“ _Wash_.”

Wash draws out, pulling a whine from York’s throat, but it’s only to push back in with three fingers, spreading them a little.

“I’m good anytime,” York says pointedly, arching into the touch.

“ _Oh_ ,” Wash says thoughtfully, and his fingers curl _tight_ against York’s prostate, enough to make him writhe and bear down on those fingers, trying to keep the pressure even as it eases away.

“Fuck. _Wash_.” His voice has gone all pleading. Been a long time since he heard himself sound like that.

“You were saying?”

“Ah, god, Wash, just _fuck_ me.”

“Mmm.” Wash rubs slow, deep circles inside him before easing off again. “You could ask nicer.”

“What, you want me to-- _fuck_ , right there--you want me to say _please_?”

Not that he hasn’t begged before--okay, plenty of times, he’s no stranger to that. It’s the assurance in Wash’s voice, in his touch--in everything, hell, he just feels so confident and it’s not just that it’s hot, although it is.

It’s just so good to see Wash like this. Sure of himself, with such obvious enjoyment dripping from every word.

York would give him anything to make that stay. A “please” is nothing.

“ _Please_.”

Especially when he means it this bad.

And there’s nothing he doesn’t love about Wash’s hot weight on top of him, the feel of his cock good and hard again nudging against his ass as his fingers draw away, the stretch as he pushes in hot and thick.

He wraps his legs around Wash’s waist and arms around his neck, wanting him closer, and Wash stays close, covering his neck with kisses, trailing soft bites down to his collarbone, sucking lightly at his skin. Lets York dig fingernails into his shoulders as he finds a rhythm. ”You can go faster,” York says between gasps, pushing up against him.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Wash retorts, shutting York up with another kiss.

He wants to take his time, he can do that too. The steady drive of his cock is slow but deep, bottoming out on every stroke, grinding down tight enough York can feel his balls squeezed between their bodies and his own cock sliding between their sweat-slicked skin, not enough friction to do a lot but it feels good all the same. All of it feels good, most of all how easy it is to lie back in Wash’s arms and just enjoy it.

Wash smothers groans against his neck. “ _God_ , York, you feel good.”

“You feel better,” York murmurs back, stupid and sentimental with pleasure, arching his hips against Wash, who grinds hard against him in response. He gets a hand in between them to wrap around York’s cock and York moans. “Ahh. Hi there.”

Wash snorts, nuzzling up under his jaw and dragging loose, lazy strokes over his cock. “Hi.”

His hand tightens as his movements quicken and York feels a whine escape, caught between wanting _more_ and not wanting this to be over. But Wash takes his time with this too, working him up with steady strokes until York’s arching up under him trying to thrust into his hand, mindless pleas spilling out with every breath. Wash’s breath comes in harsh gasps as he moves faster, pumping York’s cock, and “Wash,” York gasps out as sheer pleasure spills over into release. Wash crushes their mouths together, still fucking him into the bed, lasting a good minute or so longer before he comes hot inside York with a final hard thrust.

York’s more or less gone afterwards and perfectly content to just sink into the mattress and not move, not caring a bit what a mess they both are, and Wash collapses on top of him like he’s happy to do the same. He kind of buries his face in York’s neck, mumbling all kinds of praise at him, “You’re so good, so fucking good, York, god...” which makes York grin into the dark.

God, this is nice.

Amazing how right everything feels right now, York thinks, nuzzling Wash’s temple and feeling sleepy kisses on neck. And there’ve been times over the past months he’s felt like nothing was ever going to feel right again. But here they are.

And nothing feels missing. Not a single thing, especially when he wraps his arms a little tighter around Wash and feels Wash squeeze his ribs in return.


End file.
